


A Man is Like a Cashmere Scarf....

by MissThang17



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting drunk and writing fanfic, M/M, Ugly Betty AU, cross dressing, i have no life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissThang17/pseuds/MissThang17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ugly Betty AU! So Stiles is almost positive his new job is some form of punishment. His boss is hot, his boss' boss is a perv, and somehow no one seems to get that he's a boy.</p>
<p>Or, where Peter hires Stiles to be Derek's assistant, but makes him wear ladies clothing to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Hired

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Skinny Bitches! I love Ugly Betty, and I love Teen Wolf, so I combined them, you're fucking welcome XD I hope you all enjoy it!

_Breaking News! Jennifer Blake, Editor-in-Chief of fashion magazine ‘Omega,’ died last night in an accidental fire in her home in the Hamptons. Miss Blake was a dear frenemy to the fashion world, but on to the more juicy details. It seems that Lydia Martin, creative director of Omega, will not be taking Blake’s position as head of the magazine. No, the job will be instead given to Derek Hale, the sole heir to Alpha Publications. Could this decision be based purely on favoritism? We’ll just have to see. In other ne-_

Derek Hale clicked off the television, a frown on his face. “Why do I even have to take over this magazine?” he grumbled, “Can’t you just give the job to Lydia?” Peter Hale rose from his office chair, towering over his nephew. “It’s time you took on more responsibility in this company. Your father made me promise to have you groomed for your future as owner of this company, and I will not let him down. You start tomorrow.”

Derek growled as his uncle breezed by him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had never wanted anything to do with his father’s company, but since his sister had gone missing, and had since been declared dead by the press, he was now the only viable option to take over when his uncle decided to retire. He followed his uncle out into the elevator. “I’ll need an assistant,” he said. His uncle smirked, “Don’t worry, I’m certain I can find you someone suitable.”

At promptly seven thirty, twenty two year old Stiles Stilinski entered the massive waiting room of Alpha Publications. Plastering on a convincing smile, he marched up to the reception desk. “Hi, I have an appointment to see Peter Hale. I’m Stiles Stilinski.” The receptionist, who looked annoyed by Stiles’ presence, gave him a saccharine smile. “Of course, right this way.” The man rose from his desk and stalked towards the elevator, with Stiles desperately trying to keep up. He managed to get into the elevator unharmed, no thanks to the crabby secretary. “Maintain eye contact at all times, and don’t tell him anything about your underwear, because he will ask,” the man informed him. The elevator stopped and the sleek doors slid open.

Stiles took a deep breath and walked down the hall to the single, impressive doorway leading into Peter Hale’s office. It was close to the size of his apartment, he noted, with classy, expensive furnishings. Behind the large oak desk stood a tall, suave looking man, a predatory grin gracing his features.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski,” he purred, “It’s so nice to meet you. Please, have a seat.” Stiles sat down, a little intimidated by the older man. “I’ve looked over your resume, and I must say I’m impressed. You graduated top of your class at NYU, you have a Master’s in business, a BA in English, and you’ve already worked for a big name corporation, Whittemore Publications, correct?” Stiles nodded, “Yes sir, I wrote for their financial magazine for three years before they fired me.” Peter cocked his head, “Now, whatever would they want to fire you for?” Stiles stared nervously at his feet. “Personal conflicts,” he murmured at the plush, red carpet. Peter smiled, “Well, unfortunately, we have no openings in any magazines for a columnist.” Stiles visibly deflated, “Oh, I understand, I’ll just leave now, I guess.” Stiles rose from his chair and turned, only to be pulled into Peter Hale’s arms. “Now now, don’t fret, sweetheart, I have just the position for you. Of course, I’m going to need to know what underwear your wearing first.”

After three long, traumatic hours of dealing with Peter Hale, Stiles had a job as assistant to the new Editor-in-Chief of Omega magazine. As Stiles boarded the E-train, he pulled out his cell phone. “Hey dad, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know, I’ve got a new job! Isn’t it great?!? It’s just an assistant’s job, but at least it’s a job. You’ll never guess where! Oh my god, I’m just really excited so call me back!” As he headed home, Stiles allowed himself to hope that this job would be better than the last.


	2. On Mondays We Wear Chanel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets a taste of just how insane everyone he now works with is. Still, he got a cute outfit out of it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, my fashion lingo is a bit rusty, so please, let me have it for any inaccuracies. At any rate, enjoy!

Stiles ran into Alpha Publications as fast as he could, hurling himself into the elevator. Peter had instructed him to meet him on the twelfth floor of the building before work started. As he rode up the floors, he thought about the huge opportunity he was being presented. It had been almost six months since his last job, and his funds were running dangerously low. He had to pay his landlord with the money he owed to the bank for his student loans.  _'Hopefully,'_  he thought, ' _this job will be exactly what I need to make it as a serious journalist.'_  When he finally reached the twelfth floor, he was greeted by Peter Hale himself, wearing an inky blue tailored suit with a dark purple button up shirt and a magenta tie. Stiles stifled a laugh, trying not to think about how much his boss looks like a pimp.

"Stiles," he greeted, "welcome to Omega, the best selling fashion magazine in the world. We hope you'll be very happy working for us. Please, come with me." Peter placed his hand on the small of Stiles' back, guiding him through the catacomb of chic workspaces, photography studios, and indoor lounges. Finally, they reached a spacious room filled with designer clothes and accessories. Smirking at Stiles' stunned expression, Peter called out, “Allison! Can you come out here please, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Poking her head out from a pile of cloth, a sweet faced brunette with measuring tape wrapped around the entirety of her greeted the pair.

"Good morning, Mr. Hale, are you well?" Peter smiled. "Very well, Allison, I trust you're feeling the same. I'd like you to meet Stiles Stilinski, Derek's new assistant. Stiles, this is Allison Argent, seamstress for Omega. She fits the models for the shoots, and oversees all of the designer wear." Allison smiled and shook hands with Stiles before turning to Peter. "Is he the one we're fitting today?" Peter gave the girl a lecherous grin, "Of course, doesn't he look suited for the part?"

Stiles looked confusedly at the pair. Peter had told him to come dressed casually, so he had worn blue jeans, a batman t-shirt, and ratty sneakers. His shoulder length chestnut hair had been combed and pulled into a loose ponytail. "I don't understand," he said, "fitting me for what?" Peter leered at the young boy, sending chills down Stiles' spine. "Stiles, my dear, we run a serious magazine here, and our employees are expected to dress with a certain decorum. When I saw you on the day of your interview, I knew you possessed a unique look that I could cultivate. Therefore, in order to work at this magazine, for this company you will be required to wear the latest fashion...." he pulled something shimmery and pink from one the racks, "....for women."

Stiles just gaped. "You've got to be kidding," he said flatly. At this, Peter's eyes hardened. "Listen up and listen good, Stilinski," he spat, his tone dangerous, "you will wear whatever I tell you to. Allison and I went to a lot of trouble to put together several fabulous ensembles for you to wear, so get your cute little ass into this Chanel suit before I have you thrown out of the building." He threw the suit at Stiles before exiting the room in a huff. Stiles looked petrified, so much that Allison giggled before leading him to a changing stall. "Sorry about Peter, he's a little bit of a diva. This magazine is his baby, and he has high expectations for his employees."

"I still don't get why I’m wearing ladies clothing," Stiles' grumbled. Allison shrugged. "He does this from time to time: find a cute boy to play Victor Victoria with. They usually end up in high positions for their suffering, though. There’s a guy in Styling who had to wear plaid for a month because he showed up for his first interview in a plaid suit," she shuddered, "I'm still trying to get permission to burn it." Stiles laughed, and then looked down at the Chanel suit. It was pink with black trimming, and it came with a pair of black stilettos. He sighed, "I've done worse things for jobs. What the hell, I'll do it." Allison smiled, “Glad to hear it, now go change.”

It was nine o’ clock sharp when Stiles clomped over to his desk on wobbly feet, the stilettos already killing his heels. His desk was pushed against the far wall of the back offices, facing the open office of the Editor-in-Chief. Derek had yet to come in, so Stiles had a few moments to collect himself before the boss arrived. On his desk were a sleek new laptop, a desk lamp, an organizer, a telephone with too many buttons, and a vanity mirror. Stiles checked his reflection for the third time, still shocked at what he saw. After throwing on the Chanel suit, Peter reappeared and whisked him over to the accessories for some insanely expensive pearls, and then to Styling, where they teased his hair within an inch of his life, and painted his face lightly with makeup. All in all, he looked…gorgeous. As he unpacked a few knickknacks from home—a scented candle his dad sent him and a red pencil holder that used to be his mom’s—a pair of boobs infiltrated his space.

The boobs belonged to a pretty blonde girl who looked a bit like a coked up stripper from Reno. She wore a low cut, leopard print top with a tiny black skirt and matching leopard print pumps. She gave him the once over and smirked. “Peter got to ya, huh?” she said, “That’s funny, he usually only bothers to talk to the pretty people, he must have found you at a charity or something. I’m Erica, and you are?” Stiles, trying to get over how offended he was, put his hand out in greeting. “I’m Stiles, nice to meet you.” Erica looked down at his hand with thinly veiled disgust. “Ew. Don’t make that a habit, no one likes a hand shaker.” And with that, Erica left, leaving Stiles to finish unpacking his things.

Stiles managed to get everything unpacked when he noticed a folder on his desk addressed to Derek. He picked it up, examining it, before making his way into Derek’s office. He placed the folder on his desk, and was about to leave, when he noticed a few papers scattered on the floor in front of the desk. Forgetting about the length of his skirt, he bent over, his torso bent perfectly in half, as he picked up the papers. He was almost finished, when he heard it. 

_Ahem._

He turned his head ever so slightly, and there he was. Derek Hale, and half of the office, was watching him. It took him a minute to realize he was bent over, with his skirt around his waist. He internally groaned. First day on the job, and he had already flashed the building.

 

Thank God he wore panties to work.

 

 


	3. It's Only Fucking Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finishes his first day at Omega, and meets an interesting group of people along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tyler Posey+Glasses=Happy, Horny Author. That's it.

Derek quickly shut the door behind him, though it did little to block the view from the wall sized window facing towards the office hallway. Stiles was mortified. He pulled his skirt over his butt and smoothed it down as best he could. Derek stepped forward, hand extended.

 

“You must be my new assistant. I’m Derek Hale. To start, I’ll need you to bring me my morning coffee, lunch at noon, and handle all of my calls and mail.”

 

Stiles just nodded dumbly. Before him stood the sexiest man in New York City. He was tall, six foot four if Stiles had to guess, with big, bulging muscles attempting to rip their way through his nine thousand dollar suit. He had five o’ clock shadow that Stiles desperately wanted rubbed against his thighs, messy black hair, and bright blue eyes.

 

Stiles quickly regained his composure, shaking Derek’s hand. “I’m certain I’ll be able to handle it, Mr. Hale.” Derek’s face remained as stony as it was when he entered. He nodded once, before gesturing towards the door. Stiles left, checking out his boss’ ass as he did. He groaned. That booty though…

 

Lunch came faster than Stiles expected. He made sure Derek had his lunch before heading to the cafeteria. The Omega cafeteria was large, with an assortment of salads, sandwiches, and goodies on display. Stiles grabbed a tray, picked up a Caesar salad, a turkey sandwich, and an Arizona tea, and turned to find a table. He spotted an empty table, and resigned himself to sitting alone, that is, until Allison latched on to his arm and pulled him over to her table. Along with her, there was a handsome man with a crooked jaw, a tall black man with pink glasses, and a teenage girl wearing a leather jacket.

 

“These are the normal people at Omega,” Allison explained. “This is Scott, he works in accounting,” she gestured to the crook-jawed man. “This is Boyd, he’s one of the top designers working for Omega,” she gestured to the black man. “And this is Cora, she interns after school,” she pointed to the leather clad teen. Scott smiled, Boyd nodded, and Cora smirked. Stiles waved shyly before plopping down next to Allison. The group made light conversation, joking with one another and trading office horror stories. Allison was in the middle of a story about her first job in New York when she stopped abruptly, eyes trained on a curly haired man who strutted into the cafeteria.

 

“That’s Isaac,” Scott whispered to Stiles."He’s one of the models for Omega’s cover shoots. He and Allison absolutely _hate_ each other.” Cora snorted. “Those two go waaay beyond hate. She stabbed him with a sewing needle.” “It was an accident,” Allison ground out. Isaac sat down next to Erica and a Hawaiian man in a loud suit. None of them were eating, only whispering to one another and glaring at Stiles.

 

Lunch passed with no altercations, and soon Stiles found himself back at his desk, filing expense reports to give to accounting. He rose out of his chair and paused. Derek was pacing his office, the stress evident on his handsome features. Stiles made a mental note to check on him before heading to accounting.

 

The accounting office was on the fifth floor of the building. It wasn’t as sleek nor as stylish as the Omega offices. In fact, it didn’t look to have been remodeled since the company first opened in ’86. He walked across the shag carpeting, finding a cubicle that read, ‘Omega Accounts.’ He walked in and smiled. “Scott!”

 

Scott turned in his computer chair, a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses askew on his face. He was adorable, Stiles noted, though he noticed Scott had some nice muscles as well, though nowhere near as big as Derek’s. “Hey,” he said, grinning up at Stiles. He stood up and pulled Stiles into a half hug. He too towered over Stiles, which annoyed the shorter man to no end. “How’s the fashion world treating you?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen sex dolls with more personality. Erica keeps bugging me to tell her where I got my panties, and Derek’s face never moves, like, ever. I swear, it’s like Peter Hale wants me to suffer.” Scott grinned. “He’s crazy, and a little bit of a perv, but he means well. He must have seen potential in you to have hired you.”

 

Stiles smiled up at him. “You really know how to cheer up a guy, you know that?” Scott blushed and looked at his feet, “I could cheer you up even more.” Stiles quirked a brow, “Oh?”

 

Scott looked Stiles dead in the eye. “Will you go out with me?”

 

-Meanwhile-

 

The office of Lydia Martin was tastefully decorated, white walls with gold accent pieces. Her glass desk was accessorized with expensive, glittering trinkets. She sat primly behind her desk, looking over articles in the upcoming issue, when her assistant strode in.

 

“You called me, Lydia.”

 

She looked up. “Danny, please sit.” As Danny sat down, Lydia pulled a file out of her desk drawer and handed it to him. “In this folder is every piece of dirt available on Derek Hale, including information on Jennifer Blake. Make sure the press gets a hold of that will you?” Danny smirked. “Are we ready to take over?” Lydia gave him a cold smile.

 

“We will be.”

 

It was nearing midnight when Derek reentered is office, searching for his missing cufflink. He looked on his desk, and was taken aback. On his desk sat his cufflink, along with a stress ball shaped like a person and a note.

 

_Mr. Hale,_

_I found your cufflink on the floor in front of your office. Also, make good use of the stress ball; you looked like you needed it this afternoon._

_-Stiles_

Derek picked up the stress ball, ignoring the fluttering he felt in his stomach.


	4. Boys and Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of long and pandering, but it's 4 AM right now, so fuck all of you. Enjoy!

Pain. 

That was the first thing Stiles felt when he awoke. The harsh sunlight streaming through the window hit him square in the face. He groaned and rolled over, only to hit a solid mass lying next to him. He froze. Scott was lying next to him, naked, snoring into his shitty cotton sheets. Stiles rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to remember what happened the night before.

 

_Stiles and Scott were at the new gay bar six streets down from the office. There was lots of alcohol. Stiles felt the warmth of Scott as he slung an arm around Stiles, pulling him in close as they walked to Stiles’ apartment, giggling as they tried to stay upright. They entered the apartment, falling over one another. Then came the making out. The tearing at each other’s clothes. The feeling of Scott pounding into him, hard enough to make the bed frame slam into the wall. The way he made Stiles scream as he-_

_BEEP BEEP!_

 

Stiles heard Scott groan at the sound of the shrill alarm clock on the bedside table. Stiles crossed the room, turning off the alarm. Scott sat up, a lazy smile on his face. “You look good naked.” Stiles laughed, jumping back into bed, cuddling up next to Scott.

 

“We had quite the first date,” he said, long fingers tracing tan abs, “it’s gonna be hard to top.” Scott smirked, his arm around Stiles tightening. “I like a challenge. So, how far is the office from here?” “We have about twenty minutes before we have to leave,” Stiles said, crossing the room to his closet. “I threw your clothes in the wash after round two, they should be done by now.” Scott came up behind Stiles, burying his face into the other man’s neck. “Are you wearing ladies clothes to work again today?” Stiles sighed, “Don’t remind me. I’m doomed to lace and frills for all eternity. Well, since I have to change when I get there, I’m wearing sweats to work.” Stiles pulled open his closet door, and nearly fell over. All of his clothes were gone. In their place were hundreds of skirts, blouses, pantsuits, dresses, heels, and lingerie. Stiles closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to scream. Scott had left the room to get his clothes, and Stiles used the time to pull on a short black dress with a large red belt, along with pantyhose and red heels.

 

Scott and Stiles walked towards the E-train together, stopping for coffee along the way. Scott ordered a sugary caramel drink, while Stiles got a large hot tea. He also made sure to pick up a strong black coffee with two sugars for Derek. The ride to work was relatively tame, Scott’s hands staying (mostly) above the waist. They arrived at the office, earning a few looks as they entered the elevator. Scott gave Stiles a kiss on the cheek when they reached the fifth floor, walking out into the hallway. “See you at lunch, Beautiful,” he winked, just as the doors closed.

Stiles walked through the office, ignoring the catcalls from Erica and the knowing look on Allison’s face. He entered Derek’s office, handing him his coffee. He was about to leave when Derek spoke up. “Thanks for finding my cufflink,” he said, not looking up from his papers. “And.....thanks for the stress ball. It was very..…considerate.” Stiles fought the blush that threatened to creep onto his cheeks, muttering a ‘your welcome’ before exiting the office.

 

He sat down at his desk, where a folder sat, waiting to be read. Stiles leafed through the folder, almost squealing with delight. It was his first assignment: Run downtown to Boyd’s studio to pick up designs for new issue. There it was, his first chance to impress his boss. He grabbed his tea and closed the folder, rising out of his chair and heading towards the elevator.

 

Danny smirked from his hiding place near Stiles’ desk. He strode back to Lydia’s office, where the immaculate redhead sat primly as she snacked on champagne and unsalted cashews. “Did it work?” she asked as Danny entered the room. “Yep, he’s on his way to a crack house in Queens. He won’t figure out he’s been played until he gets there.” Lydia smirked. “Good. Let’s pay our dear friend Derek a visit, shall we?”

 

Derek tried to repress the urge to stab the woman in front of him. Lydia Martin was blackmailing him. In front of him were photos cataloging his relationship with Jennifer Blake. From their very first date to their holiday in Venice to the night he broke off their engagement.  

 

“What do you want, Lydia?” Derek growled. Lydia gave him a cold look. “Your job, but since that isn’t going to happen, I want your power. Approve all of my suggestions, with no argument, and you don’t become a murder suspect.” And with that, Lydia exited, a smug Danny following suit.

 

Derek groaned, grabbing his new stress ball and crushing it in his palm.

 

-Break- 

  

It had been three days since Stiles’ first day at Omega. The hours were long, the coworkers vicious, and the assistant ‘duties’ endless. Derek had been running Stiles ragged, between filing and sending and receiving and messaging, it was a wonder he could remember how to breathe. To make matters worse, Lydia had asked for him to bring her Derek’s letter from the editor, which meant dealing with her evil minion, Danny. Stiles had already paid him back for sending him to a crack house by sneaking him extra, fattening, butter on his morning bagel, as well as whole milk in his coffee.

 

Stiles, letter in hand, made his way to Lydia’s office. He entered the empty office, laying the letter on her desk. He noticed a large manila envelope with pictures scattered on top of it. The pictures were of Derek and some woman; they look to be unaware of being photographed.

 

Stiles knew better than to think the photos were innocent. In fact, they explained the strange cohesion between Derek and Lydia. ‘ _She must be blackmailing him,’_ Stiles thought. He turned on his thousand dollar heel and marched out, heading for his boss.

  

Derek wanted to scream. The new cover for the month’s issue was terrible. It was a loud, over the top, mess. _‘But it’s what Lydia wants,’_ he thought. He was about to sign off on it when Stiles burst into the room, a crazed look in his eye.

 

“You can’t let Lydia win!” he said, “She’s not in charge of this magazine, you are! Don’t let her get the better of you with some dumb photos. You are Derek Hale, no one pushes you around.” Stiles took several deep breaths, calming himself. “I’m sorry, I’ll just…um…” Stiles turned and ran out of the office, tripping over his feet as he did so.

 

Derek sat at his desk, stunned. He rose quickly, taking long strides over to Stiles. He grabbed the younger man and spun him around. They stood there for a moment before Derek released the boy. “Thank you Stiles.”

 

The next day, Lydia’s cover idea was shot down at the Editor’s meeting, and Stiles found a large, expensive gift basket on his desk, courtesy of Derek. Stiles smiled at the gift, though his smile warped into a frown when he saw the equally large and expensive bouquet of roses from Scott.

 

What to do….

 

 

 

 


	5. Nudes and Nuptials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles helps Derek through a crisis, only to have another thrown in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally found the time to write, which is mostly due to the fact that college work is stupid and must be neglected until the last minute. So enjoy!

Stiles smiled as he awoke to Scott tossing in his sleep. It was Sunday, and Stiles had no plans for the day, except to snuggle with his perfect boyfriend. 

 

Stiles hopped into the shower, singing off key as he lathered and rinsed every inch of himself. When he exited the shower, Scott had awoken. “I have to run to my place for a few things,” he said, kissing Stiles on the cheek, “meet you for lunch?”  “Sounds great,” Stiles said, smacking Scott’s ass as he headed for the elevator. Stiles decided today would be a perfect day for lounging about in his bathrobe, so he abandoned the thought of putting on clothes. He poured himself a cup of coffee and turned on his laptop. He scrolled through junk mail, emails from Derek, Peter, and Allison, until he found an email with an attachment.  There was no name to accompany the email, just a link to a website.  

 

Stiles opened the link, and his eyes bugged out of his head at what he saw. He sprung out of his chair, ran for his closet and started rifling through clothes, all while trying to call Derek on his cell. He managed to find one pair of sneakers to wear-those damn heels would be the death of him-when Derek’s cell went to voicemail. Stiles cursed as he pulled on a stylish black tracksuit (Peter wasn’t being subtle about Stiles needing to lose the five pounds he recently gained) and ran for the door. 

 

Danny sniggered as he sent the last unmarked email to the last of the AP employees. Standing next to him was Erica, who, though was not forced to by Lydia, aided Danny in his evil scheme, which of course meant she did her makeup and made kissy faces at Danny’s vanity mirror. The two cackled evilly as they looked at the website they had made, full of photos they had doctored to look rather scandalous.  

 

Oh, Monday was gonna be fun. 

 

~~Meanwhile~~

 

Stiles finally reached the lobby of Derek’s apartment building, huffing and puffing from exertion. He quickly entered the elevator, ignoring the disapproving looks of the old woman with whom he shared the elevator. He exited on the sixteenth floor, and rushed down the hall to Derek’s door. He knocked and tapped his foot impatiently until a sleepy, disgruntled Cora opened the door. 

 

“Stiles? Do you know what time it is? Ten in the morning is too damn early for a teenager to be awoken by loud ass knocking! Now what do you want?” 

 

“Where’s Der-?” Stiles began to ask, only to stop abruptly, when a shirtless Derek Hale came into view. Derek pushed his little sister out of the way, greeting Stiles with a curt nod.  

 

“What is it?” 

 

Stiles gaped for a moment before his panic returned. 

 

“There’s something you need to see.”

  

There were at least a dozen photoshopped pictures of Derek, most of them naked, and one(very disturbing) photo of Derek and Peter, shirtless and glistening, laying in seductive poses on top of a black Cadillac.

 

“Oh man,” Cora laughed as she peered over Stiles’ shoulder, “you’re fucked big brother.”

 

Derek growled and slammed his laptop shut, his hands clenching his hair in frustration. It was obvious that Lydia and her minions were behind it, the photoshopping was incredible. Derek paced back and forth, shaking his head and occasionally growling. Stiles sat there quietly for a moment, before an idea came to him.

 

“What if we flip it on her?”

 

Derek looked up at him, confused, before it dawned on him. “Cora,” he barked, “how good are you at photoshop?” Cora smirked, “Step aside, bitches, Cora’s got magic to make.”

 

Derek turned to Stiles, gratitude in his eyes. “Stiles,” he began. Stiles held up his hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, a small smile on his face, “it’s my job to save your ass.” Derek let out a low chuckle, before quickly pulling Stiles in for a hug. 

 

Stiles, never one to turn down a hug, wrapped his arms around his boss, until he heard a wolf whistle from behind him. “Hey,” Cora called out, “as cute as you two are, I could use some help. Derek, why don’t you put on a shirt and come help me.” Once Derek had realized that he was,indeed, topless, he leapt away from Stiles and ducked his head, before dismissing the flustered assistant.

 

~~Monday~~

 

Lydia Martin strode into the office, her Prada heels clicking against the floor as she walked. She took a sip of coffee, and nearly spat it out in surprise. At the receptionists desk, Erica was looking at the website that Danny had created. Someone had hacked into it and added several photoshopped pictures of Lydia, some wearing sweatpants and others of her shopping at the Gap. Furious, Lydia looked up to see Derek smirking at her from the main entrance, with his bratty sister next to him.

 

Lydia shrieked in outrage, the sound echoing through the Omega offices.

 

From his desk, Stiles smiled at the angry screams he heard. He filed some papers, ready to go pay Scott a visit down in accounting. He was late to lunch the day before due to helping Derek, which led to an awkward talk about priorities and a bunch of other awful grown up stuff. He was on his way to make it up to him when he noticed a tall blonde woman peering into Derek’s office. 

 

“Hello,” Stiles addressed her as he approached, “may I help you?” “Yes I’m looking for Derek Hale,” she said, peering at him through her Donna Karan sunglasses. “I can go look for him,” Stiles replied, “who should I say is asking?”

 

The woman smirked before showing him a diamond ring.

 

“Kate Argent, his wife.”

 

 


	6. Love and Marriage?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead! I started rewatching ugly betty and fell in love w this story all over again, so here it is! A brand new chapter! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about Nevada state law, I just made something up to further my plot, thanks!

"I can't believe this, Derek's married? To your _aunt_?" 

Allison bit her lip nervously as Stiles paced the floor of the Closet, his heels leaving small divots in the plush carpet.

"It's...complicated," she began.

"Aunt Kate used to be a model for Omega, she was always bringing me along to shoots and parties and events, that's how I got interested in fashion. She and Derek started dating, way before he had anything to do with the company, and one night they were partying out in Vegas and..."

Stiles whipped his head to look at Allison, who kept her eyes glued to the floor.

"Are you telling me Derek had a drive-thru Vegas wedding?" He asked incredulously. 

Allison nodded. "The minute he realized what he had done he filed for divorce, but Kate refused to sign the papers and has refused to do so ever since."

Stiles shook his head. "I don't even know how to process this."

Allison looked up at her friend, her eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but it's hard for me to bring up. I kinda have a messed up family."

Stiles sighed, taking a seat next to the girl on the lounge. "I don't blame you, up until she walked into Derek's office, it was none of my business. Still isn't, I suppose."

Allison patted him on the shoulder, before quickly changing topics. "So how are things going with you and Scott?"

"Good....I think." At Allison's questioning glance the boy elaborated. "He's as sweet as can be, he treats me right, and he understands how important this job is to me, it's just....the last relationship I had was messy, and ended even messier. I don't want to ruin what we have by doing anything stupid."

Allison gave him a reassuring smile. "I think you're being too hard on yourself, Scott's crazy about you! Half of Accounting is ready to strangle him just to get him to shut up about you."  
Stiles turned to her. "Really?"

"Yes, really! He can't get enough of you! You don't have to worry about a thing, sweetie."

Stiles hugged his friend, promising to go out for drinks with her later in the week before striding back to his desk, his steps lighter than they were before.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Kate, why are you here?" Derek asked, arms folded as he stared down the woman across from him.

"What? Can't a girl come visit her darling husband at work?" She asked.

"I'm not your husband," he said flatly.

"Oh yes you are," she spat venomously. "And I have the papers to prove it."

She rose from her chair, stalking around the desk until she was behind his chair, gently massaging his shoulders. "You now we're meant to be together, you always have. That's why you married me."

"Actually, I married you because I was young and stupid and drunk," he said viciously as he shrugged her hands off of him. he strode towards the door, opening it and gesturing for her to leave.

She walked out of the office, pausing in the doorway. She turned to him, her eyes dangerous. "Don't forget who you really belong to, I'd hate for your next fling to end up like Jennifer Blake."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles watched as Derek's faced paled upon the exit of his wife. Something clearly happened between the two, but Stiles reminded himself that it was none of his business. He focused instead on replying to all of the calls and emails he was getting. Fashion Week was only days away and Stiles knew that everything had to be perfect. It was Derek's first Fashion Week as Editor in Chief and if there were any screw ups, Lydia would swoop in with her flying monkeys and take over. 

Stiles grabbed the schedule he typed up for Derek and stepped into the office, where he saw his boss' head cradled in his hands.

"Um, Derek? Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

"My life is over," Derek grumbled. "Kate refuses to sign the divorce papers I gave her god knows how long ago, Fashion Week is only days away and now I have to deal with this!"

Derek thrust a piece of paper into Stiles' manicured hands. He studied the paper, eyes widening as he read. "You're being called in for questioning by the police? Why?"

Derek sighed, standing up and looking out the large window overlooking Manhattan. "A few months before she died, I was involved with Jennifer Blake. We spent a lot of time together, but after awhile I realized she wasn't the one. I called off our engagement and left for Italy, and two days after I returned to New York, she died in that car crash. I was the last person she was seen intimately with, so it makes sense that the authorities would want to talk to me."

Stiles moved closer to is boss, and Derek stared down at the brunette. "Derek, I know you didn't kill her. Just go in for questioning, tell them the truth and you'll be fine. I believe in you."

Derek smiled down at his assistant. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better."

Stiles smiled triumphantly. "I know, I deserve a raise. _Hint, hint_."

Derek let out a real, genuine laugh, and Stiles beamed as he handed his boss the schedule and left the office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So Derek has his questioning tomorrow? That's rough," Scott remarked.

Stiles and Scott were seated at a table in a nice restaurant, enjoying date night.

"He'll get through it, he can take care of himself, probably," Stiles responded. 

"So I've been thinking," Scott began nervously, stabbing at his steak.

"Careful, you might hurt yourself," Stiles teased, but his jovial manner evaporated when he noticed the serious look on Scott's face. "What is it?"

Scott looked his boyfriend dead in the eye, his face hopeful. 

"Will you move in with me?" 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Allison watched with uncertainty as her aunt made out with some stranger across the bar. She had come in for a drink, hoping to meet with Boyd to discuss Fashion Week, when she noticed her aunt had entered with a handsome man. The two began drinking and as the night wore on, making out in a corner booth. Allison quickly pulled out her phone and took a picture, before turning around and hiding her face as the two passed her on their way out. 

She smiled as Boyd joined her at the bar, willing the incident out of her mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Oh my God," Stiles exclaimed as Allison recounted the story to him. "That's insane! Why would your aunt be fighting so hard for her marriage to Derek if she's met someone else?" 

"I don't know," Allison admitted, staring blankly at the picture on her phone.

"Allison, I have to tell him," Stiles said gently, "If there's any way I can get him out of this mess, I need to do it."

"I know," Allison said quietly, "It's just...she's family. She got me this job here, you know, last year. It was the best year of my life, until I met you."

Stiles beamed at her, until his expression became thoughtful. "Do you remember the date? Exactly?"

"Yes, it was the end of September, I remember because we had that ghastly Halloween issue to push. Orange is a vile color, if you ask me."

Stiles tuned out Allison's rant, pulling a photo out of his bag. It was a photo of Derek and Jennifer at a fancy cafe in upper Manhattan, on the back 'First Date' had been scribbled.

"Allison," Stiles said sadly, showing her the photo. "That was when Derek started dating Jennifer."

Allison stared at the photo, realization dawning on her features. "Oh my god, Kate didn't get me this job to further my career, she got me this job to spy on Jennifer!" 

She marched over to the fitting room, where she had fit Jennifer Blake for the entirety of her career. Near one of the clothing racks was a picture Kate had given her of the family. She smashed t on the ground ignoring Stiles' shocked cry. She pulled apart the frame, finding a microphone and a long cord nestled inside. 

Allison's face darkened, her eyes black as coal.

"She has to pay."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Derek stared incredulously at the enraged brunettes standing before him.

"What do you mean, Kate has a boyfriend?"

"Kate's been dating off and on since you left her," Stiles explained. "All it took was a few phone calls to some jaded exes and they told us everything."

Allison stepped forward. "They gave us access to their social media accounts, and we gathered every photo available of her with other men. And even some women."

The two friends flitted around each other, supplying Derek with information and evidence as they danced around one another. Finally, Stiles stopped right in front of the desk, a black folder in his hand. 

"According to Nevada state law, any divorce case can be settled if one party is involved in infidelity. Kate doesn't have to sign any papers, just send all of this to your lawyer and he can have you divorced by Friday."

Derek took everything presented to him, assembling it into a manila envelope. 

"Thank you both, this means a lot to me."

Allison smiled and took her leave, leaving Stiles alone with his boss.

Derek stood up, striding towards Stiles until he was practically on top of his assistant. Neither spoke, just stared.

"Derek, I-" Stiles was cut off as Derek's lips pressed firmly against his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From Stiles' desk overlooking Derek's office, Scott McCall looked on the two, feeling his heart break in half.


End file.
